Sometimes Life is a Fair
by Cheryl W
Summary: The brothers have some fun at a street fair. Pure fluff. Slight spoilers for 5x3 and 5x4.


Sometimes Life is a Fair

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean or Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: The brothers have some fun at a street fair. Pure fluff. Slight spoilers for 5x3 and 5x4.

Author's Note: I wrote this tale for my own amusement but my Beta encouraged me to post it too. Hope it makes someone laugh or smile like it did me.

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As the line of traffic in front of the Impala grinded to a halt along the small town's main street, Dean noted the sidewalks were busy with foot traffic. And, if his nose was still to be trusted, he smelled food in the air slipping into the Impala's interior from the open driver's side window. He turned his head and shared a curious look to Sam.

Sam called out to the couple walking along the sidewalk, "Hey, what's going on up ahead?"

"The Farm show," the man replied but clarified at the dark haired man's confused look. "It's our local street fair."

"Ah…yeah, course," Sam stammered, turned back to Dean with raised eyebrows.

"And they closed the friggin' street for that?! Talk about small town," Dean scoffed even as he edged the Impala forward, could finally see what lay ahead: a sawhorse blocking the road and beyond that…food wagons, game stands and a throng of people. Stopping beside the fire police volunteer directing traffic, Dean asked, "We're looking for the offices for Dr. Marsok, 106 Main Street."

Pointing up the closed off street, the man answered, "His offices are down this block. You can find parking along the side streets and walk to his office."

Dean gave his patent 'thanks for crappy news' smile and put the Impala into motion, making the turn down one of the hick town's side streets. "Park where?" he groused, annoyed at the red "No Parking" signs slapped on every telephone poll he passed. Following the string of cars, he turned right, found the street fully lined with parked cars on both sides.

"Wait, that church has parking?" Sam aided, pointing to a lot with a ready and willing church member standing at the curb, bucket in hand.

"Five bucks!" Dean sputtered. "No way am I giving them five bucks! I'm not paying to park in this two bit town!" Gassed the Impala past the church as if the gesture would tell them their chances of getting his hard earned money.

"Alright, fine, then it looks like we're going to have to hike it because these close parking spaces are taken," Sam sighed, knew his brother's stubbornness when it came to imparting with his pool-shark won funds. His head swiveled left as he caught the movement along the street they passed, of a pirate ship and a ride he called an egg roll. "They got rides."

A hint of wonder had crept into his voice, enough to earn him Dean's glare. "What are you, five?"

Rebuffed, Sam slunk back into the passenger seat, determined to not aid Dean in spotting his elusive parking space. Besides, rides weren't just for kids. Just look at Walt Disney's empire?! But as it would have it, Dean's unbelievable luck held. A car pulled away from the sidewalk ahead. With begrudging respect, Sam marveled at how effortlessly Dean made squeezing the big, bulky Chevy between two parked cars look.

Climbing from the car and calling over the roof for Sam to lock the car, Dean stretched, felt the pull of tired, taunt muscles. Wished that they could have crashed at the motel for a few hours but the good doctor was only open until 6pm. He waited until Sam joined his side. Together they used their long legs to cross in between the seemingly never ending line of traffic on the side street. Stepping onto the other sidewalk, Dean saw the rides his brother had pointed out and started to head that way, Sam in step with him.

Turning the corner was like gaining admission into an amusement park. There were hoards of people shoulder to shoulder, eating and carrying prizes they had won. And the sounds hit them from every direction, of kids screaming on the rides, the hawkers of the game stands claiming you could be a winner and the conversations and laughter of a hundred friends and neighbors of this small town as they ambled their way down the streets that usually catered solely to cars. Last but not least, was the wafting smell of the best food America had to offer: Hamburgers, steak sandwiches, and the unmistakable smell of fried food in all its wonderful connotations. Dean felt Sam nudge him with his shoulder and he tore his gaze from the surprising landscape before him to his brother.

"What do you think about it now, huh?" Sam gloated, knew that this was a scene Dean would enjoy. That, though the world may be coming apart elsewhere, here, now, there was still good times to be had…even for the fools who had a hand in starting the apocalypse.

Dean tilted his head and gave a nod before he smiled in welcome defeat, "Well, even small town's have their charms, right?" Sam smiled at his brother's words and they started making their way through the crowd, single file, Dean in the lead. And it felt good, having Dean in the lead, even in something as small and non-threatening as a street fair, felt like some of their equilibrium was returning. Coming into the middle of an intersection, Sam spotted the number on the house in the corner, knew the doctor's office would be down that street a little ways. But when he looked around, he saw that Dean was heading determinedly in the opposite direction, toward a french fry wagon. Grabbing Dean's arm, Sam set down the rules, "Doctor first, then food, Dean," saw the childish, disgruntled look on his brother's face before Dean followed his lead to the left.

Ten minutes later, they stepped out from the doctor's office, stopped on the stoop to overlook the beautiful mayhem of the street fair. "Well, it's pretty clear now what we're dealing with," Dean concluded, eyes on the three pretty girls who gave him and his brother come hither smiles as they passed by them. "Doesn't mean we have to deal with it right now."

Sam couldn't hold back his smile. Dean hadn't changed as much as he thought he had, found that the knowledge eased some of the tension he carried…and the guilt. "No, it's been around for close to a hundred years, seems like another day won't matter."

"Good, I'm starving," Dean exhaled, stepping off the stoop and stalking to the center of the street again, eyes going up and down the signs lining both sides of the busy street that listed his food choices. "So what are you starting with?" he asked Sam who had pushed through a few giggling teenagers to join him.

"Starting with? Huh?" Sam lightly said, took a moment to eye up his choices.

"Chicken Wrap," Sam announced even as Dean said, "Cheese Steak" and they headed opposite directions.

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Having instinctively found each other again, even among the pressing number of people, the brothers walked down the street, found that, for the most part, they could walk shoulder to shoulder. Especially now that things had thinned out because half the crowd had left to watch the parade going on along more of the town's main street. Dean's eyes tracked a sugar powered confection being eaten by hand, saw another and picked a pretty girl to stop and ask what the desert was.

"Funnel cake," Dean repeated, wasn't sure he liked the name but it looked tasty. Sam's hand on his chest stopped his progress. Looking to Sam, he saw his brother nod to something to his right. Turning around, he saw the food wagon boasting funnel cakes.

"This was destined for you, dude," Sam laughed as he pointed to the scarecrow cutout on the hitch of the wagon.

"Shut up," Dean good naturedly snapped, crossing to the stand, not hesitating to lay down his five dollars for the sugar powered, deep fried doughy treat. He gave a heavenly sigh at the first bite of the treat, which was a thousand times better than any sugar powered donut. "You gotta try this, Sam," he insisted, felt somehow closer to Sam than he had in a long time when his brother instantly reached out to snag a section of the cake.

Sam ended up licking his fingers it was that good and continued diving into his brother's treat without further prompting. Soon all that was left on the paper plate was small powder sugar piles. The plate proved merciless to the whims of the wind when it flipped and dumped its sweet remains all onto Dean's black t-shirt. Laugher burst from Sam and he laughed even harder as Dean plied the plate off of him to reveal the white blotches marring his shirt front.

In frustration, Dean gave a low growl and tried to dust the powder off only to smear what was there and leave a white hand print on his chest. He glared at Sam who laughed even more heartily at his trouble. "Jerk," he grumbled, throwing away the evil paper plate, glad that darkness was beginning to fall and his dirty shirt would soon go unnoticed. Found that he didn't want to leave, not yet. That walking around here, with Sam at his side, it felt like they were brothers again, but more than that. Were friends, someone the other could be himself with, laugh with. And he didn't want to lose that feeling, not just yet.

Getting his wallet out of his pocket, Dean pulled out a dollar and handed it to Sam.

Brow creasing with confusion, Sam asked, "What's that for?" wondering what he was being set up for.

Gripping Sam's arms, Dean turned his brother around and gave him a shove forward. "Game's just for you, Sammy. You know you have to get over your fear."

Faced with a game where you were supposed to throw a ball through a clown's open mouth, Sam shook his head at his brother's humor. "Fine," he snapped and snagged the bill from his brother's grip before Dean could withdraw the offer. He turned a smug smile to Dean as his first ball sailed easily through the clown's stupid smiling hole. But it truly was a case of pride comes before a fall when he whipped the next ball with more force…and it hit the clown in the eye and rebounded again into the street. Found Dean laughing so hard that his brother had to grip his arm to keep upright.

Pushing a still laughing Dean down the street, Sam jerked Dean to a stop before a throwing game that Sam was 90% sure was rigged. Exchanging a dollar for three balls, he shoved the balls into his brother's gut. "Go ahead, show me how it's done," he goaded. But to his chagrin, Dean lobbed all three balls into the small spouts of the old milk cans.

"That, Sammy, is how it's done," Dean boasted before turning back to the game attendant for his prize. It took every hunter instinct in him to not jump when he found himself nose to nose with a huge teddy bear. A bear that reminded him sharply of that girl's cussing, depressed real live teddy bear.

"Oh, crap!" Sam laughed, skirting away from the bear and his brother, knew that revenge was sweet when Dean seemed to force himself to take a hold of his prize. Moments later, he couldn't help looking to his left to see Dean lugging that bear under his arms…the bear knocking into people and nearly unhinging a stand sign. "Dude, tell me you're not keeping that thing."

"What, why not. I won it," Dean stubbornly returned, happily envisioning dumping the bear in every trash can he passed.

"Why not?! Because I know you see the resemblance? That you know it's….creepy," Sam pressed as he dodged a girl carrying a large stuffed giraffe.

"Creepy?! Sammy scared of a little bitty stuffed bear?!" Dean taunted because he couldn't miss any opportunity he got to rib his little brother. It was wired in his DNA

"Ah, yeah. After that whole…bi-polar bear…" Sam began, not able to pass up making the tongue in cheek joke.

"Ha ha," Dean lowly returned, though a smile wanted to turn up his lips.

"Admit it, it creeps you out, too," Sam nearly sing songed, pacing Dean among the crowd.

"Dude it's stuffed," Dean countered, gave a pretty girl a smile as she passed by.

Falling behind Dean as the crowd thickened, he nearly whispered in Dean's ear from behind, "So was he."

"What? One bear goes off the reservation and the rest of the bear population gets a bad reputation. That sounds like discrimination to me," Dean shot over his shoulder, nearly collided with a tall, burly biker dude's chest during his distraction. He halted in his tracks causing Sam to collide with his back. It took all Dean's strength to make sure he didn't fall forward into the biker's arms.

Sighing as the biker passed by without the two of them getting intimate, Dean started forward again, at a slower pace.

Sliding into the spot at Dean's left side, Sam threw out his most convincing tactic. "Fine, but we're putting it in the back seat right where you can see it in your rear view mirror."

They went a few more steps before Dean detoured to the side without warning, was kneeling down beside a screaming girl of four and handing off the bear. Instantly her cries faded to a smile and her little hands clutched onto the bear's furry arm. Though the mother gave him a long suffering look, she offered up words of thanks.

"Let's play some better games," Dean said as he rejoined Sam's side.

They each won two glasses and a plate at the coin toss, filled in the star at the shooting range within seconds and Dean won a packet of M&M peanuts while Sam cleaned house by winning 10 candies of his choice. On the dart throw, Sam purposefully bumped Dean as he released the dart, causing the dart to go wide and come close to impaling the attendant. "Sorry. Sorry man," Dean apologized to the scared attendant, even as he stepped on Sam's foot to get his brother to quiet down his laughter. Dean returned the favor on a different dart game, laughed until tears came when Sam was awarded a "Hanna Montana" picture. Discovering that they both sucked at skee ball, they decided it was more fun to see who finished up first with the highest score than rely on skill they didn't have. But when some burly, mammoth carni guy with more tattoos than hair gave them the hairy eye ball, they quickly departed the scene of battle, neither besting the other.

It was too dark to make out faces as they shouldered their way through the crowd and made their way back to the Impala. Felt strange to step from the excitement of the streets to the quiet of the normal street they had parked on. They shared a look and matching smiles lit up their features as they climbed back into the Impala. For a moment, they sat there in companionable silence. "That felt good," Dean announced, turned and met Sam's eyes across the darkening interior.

"Yeah, it did," Sam agreed, knew that neither one of them was talking about the food or the winning. That the joy he felt had all to do with being with his brother, of them having fun together.

"You are so much more fun than Cas," Dean stated, turning on the engine, wondering how, even in his moment of loneliness, he could have missed that truth.

"Ah, Ok," Sam stammered, wasn't sure who was being complimented or insulted more, him or the angel. But found it didn't matter, he was just happy that his brother was picking him to be at his side.

"We'll have to hit this town again next year," Dean announced, surprising both of them.

Sam cleared his throat, "You think…" but he didn't want to bring up their troubles, the fears he had for the future, wanted to enjoy the moment he had with his brother, "You think that you'll do any better at Skee ball? Because dude, you need to practice."

"Me, I'm not the one whose ball bounced out of his lane and into mine," Dean refuted."Yeah and you should be thanking me. You never got a thirty on your own," Sam countered with a wide smile.

"I say that you're fun to hang around with and now you think you're a comedian. If we had to survive on your comedic timing, we would starve."

"And if we had to survive on your dart throwing skills we'll be up on manslaughter charges again."

"No, no, no. That one's on you," Dean defended his skills, eyes flickering to his brother, who was sitting in his corner of the car and quietly laughing.

Amidst his laughter, Sam managed to get out, "I thought that guy was going to pee his pants when the dart missed him by inches."

"Shouldn't have a pansy working the dart counter," Dean roughly criticized. "They should have that skee ball bouncer down there."

"That dude's weight alone would tilt the game trailer…" Sam deadpanned.

Silence descended between the brothers and then Dean was laughing so hard he could barely drive, knew Sam, who was bent over laughing, would be no help keeping them on the road either.

In that moment Dean remembered something he had almost forgotten. Remembered what it felt like to be happy, to be part of someone, part of a family, to be part of the family that consisted of him and Sam. Remembered what it felt like to laugh with someone he loved, to feel contentment seep over him at having his brother at his side. Knew that, for all the crap laid at their respective doors, the good times he and Sam shared, they were still a priceless blessing. And that particular blessing, it was almost proof enough for him that God was out there. That God existed and He had a soft spot for him.

"We should have hooked up with a carnival instead of the circus…" Dean said aloud, as if he were truly contemplating it. He looked to Sam, saw his brother was patiently waiting for his punch line. "You would like it better anyway. Less clowns and no midgets."

Internally Sam qualified, '_I'll be anywhere you are big brother_.' Aloud he protested, "Yeah but then we would have to deal with your Teddy Bear issues. You think there's a clinical name for your phobia. Bearaphobia, teddyaphobia, course the Latin word for bear is ursus so…"

With a tight lipped smile, Dean turned on the radio and turned the volume up nearly as high as it would go, drowning out his brother's Latin lesson. But there was a happy glimmer in Sam's eyes that matched the feeling spreading through him. The feeling of coming home after being on a long, lonely journey.

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The End.

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I just couldn't resist having Dean and Sam visit our local street fair.

Have a great day!

Cheryl w.


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